Better Than This
by Ravyntree
Summary: Dib and Zim, grown up from their childish skool days, find themselves intertwined in an impossibly complicated and abusive situation.. But whom will be the victim and whom the aggressor in the end?
1. Better Than This

'_Wasn't the first and won't be the last,_' he thought amusedly as he stepped from the building slowly, hands driven deep into his pockets. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the curtains move slightly and he grinned. They can look all they want but they won't get him back with eyes.

The man slid into his vehicle, nothing special just a little manual Mazda, and drove away. He felt the gazes follow him away and continued to grin, completely amused just by who he was. Who he had become.

He parked in front of a familiar house, hand full of dirty cash now. He jaunted up the walk like he owned the place, which, really, he rather did. And he rather liked it.

The door opened slowly as he was expected. He stepped inside and shrugged his coat off, dropping it on a rack next to the door and looking at the figure as it closed the door and locked it firmly.

"I have a little more for you tonight, if you're interested," Dib said, throwing the money down on the table and taking a seat on the couch.

Zim stepped over to him, head down. He picked up the money carefully and thumbed through it, counting out the extra hundreds. He nodded once and set it back down.

Dib took his boots off and sat back on the couch a moment, crossing his arms and looking Zim up and down. The alien didn't dare look up at him, his antennae flattened against his head in submission. Eventually Dib nodded and Zim stepped over to the lift, pressing a button to call it up. Dib took his time walking over, and when it arrived they both stepped onto the small lift and descended into the lab.

"Ever consider redecorating?" Dib asked, looking around the drab room. For all the alien technology, it really wasn't much to comment on. Zim didn't reply, leading Dib down a hall to a room he had designed especially for the human.

Dib made himself at home, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it over a chair as Zim closed the door.

"What'll it be today, Zim?"

The Irken glanced at him, knowing better than to answer. Dib looked him over again and waved a hand. Zim began to undress himself quickly, tossing his own clothes onto the floor until he stood naked before the human.

"Exotic," Dib chuckled, commenting on his own tastes. "You know what to do."

Zim lowered his head more and stepped over, undoing Dib's jeans with shaking hands. It had been a hundred times and he still dreaded each. Sometimes it was quick and simple, if the man was bored or merciful. Sometimes long and agonizing, physically punishing and sadistic. Zim could judge from Dib's expression what this night would be, and he steeled himself for the abuse.

He went down on his knees as he slid the human's pants down to his feet and Dib stepped out of them. Zim rose and folded them neatly, laying them in the chair and then folding the human's shirt so as it would not wrinkle.

"So efficient," Dib chuckled, perfectly comfortable and confident in his own nudeness. He laid down on the soft bed as Zim returned to him. His crimson eyes didn't even see as he climbed atop the human and licked his hands. He set to work, doing everything the human asked. He took the scratches and bites, the blows and strikes. He took it all silently, even as the human eventually switched places with Zim and forced himself into the Irken's mouth. Tears pricked Zim's eyes as he started to choke, but he held himself well and swallowed the man as he knew was expected of him. The taste.. it never got better, never got old.

Eventually Dib rose and slipped into his clothing, smirking as he buttoned his jeans. Zim lay, curled up on the bed with eyes squeezed tightly shut. It was over, he could rest and cry.

"Your tears betray you," Dib said as he slipped his shirt on. "Mighty Invader." And he was gone, knowing the lab well enough now to get out himself.

Zim wept silently, his alien tears not that much different than a human's but thicker. He wept for an hour as he usually did, then rose and dressed himself. He returned upstairs and counted the money again, then put on his disguise and left to buy what he needed, which was much compared to the cash.


	2. Better Than That

"Welcome back Dib," the woman smiled as he stepped into the building.

"Hello Miss," he replied, smiling. She took his coat and hung it in a closet to one side of the door for him. He sighed softly, pleasantly, and pushed his hair back.

"So, who's in tonight?" he asked, following her down to the hall. That hall. The one he would very soon come to dread.

"The usual. Amy, Lynn, and Mick are your current lineup, in that order." She led him to one of his rooms and he tilted his head.

"Breaks or tight?"

"Tight tonight. Two are already here, and Lynn is coming at 11."

Dib checked his watch. 10:30. Damn, that is a tight schedule.

"What's Mick doing, waiting around?"

"He's being entertained in the pole room." The stripper poles. This place was special, because it provided shifts for both male and female strippers, and the same with the prostitutes. Dib wasn't exactly what could be called one of the whores. He used to be a customer, coming in often enough that his skills in the sack were noted by the girls whom worked there. They spoke to Miss, the Queen of the building, and the next time Dib came in she offered him a job. He had at first shared a room with another male whom came in on a different shift than Dib, but they soon gave him his own room. He even kept a few books there for when business was slow, though usually he was scheduled ahead of time. He didn't like walk-ins, because they were usually out-of-towners and usually creeps.

Dib now stepped into the room and looked about. Everything was just as it had been a week ago when he had last worked. A black-shaded lamp with very soft wattage, a canopy bed arranged for complete darkness if desired, an innocent-seeming dresser that was filled with all sorts of devices. Each drawer held its own category of sensual toys and gadgets; male things, female things, sadistic things, soft and sweet things.. and everything in between. He cracked his knuckles and stepped over to the bed, turning it out partially for preparation. Amy was a dirty girl, and he knew she liked it right between the sheets.

Miss closed the door, and it wasn't long before a knock came as Amy was shown to the room. Not that she needed an escort, but guards and escorts followed people everywhere here.

The building was a comfortable-seeming one; an old hotel-turned-brothel. But brothel is such a nasty word. Not that there's a better one though. There was a single strip of carpet running down the center of the hall, and each room was decorated differently. Some were bared floors, some with shaq rugs or carpet, some with spongy material such as that found in preschool playtime areas.

Dib's room was dark, with deep blue and red walls, the black lamp, dark-crimson bed set and black canopy curtain. His floors were coated in black paint and bare, and the only thing that didn't really fit in was the dresser itself, as it was just plain white. The bathroom had been cleared out, leaving just a very large room with its trappings and décor. The windows were painted black as well, and nailed shut. Little light got through the chipped edges of the paint.

Dib opened the door and smiled at the girl. She grinned that dirty grin back at him as she sauntered her pretty little ass, dressed in skin-tight leather, into the room.

"Hello Amy."

"Hi Dib," she breathed back in that irresistible way of her's. Dib felt himself growing pleased to see her, and not in an emotional way. She circled him, taking in the classy black shirt and dress pants that are almost never flattering but somehow Dib pulled them off well.

"Looking good," she said, reaching up to trail fingers over the back of his neck as she circled. He felt his spine twinge, and knew nothing had changed in the six months he had been doing this. Amy was always his favorite; she was more his style than anyone, though he did enjoy Mick simply because of who he was.

"And yourself," he replied coyly, not thinking of the money he got for this, or the sexual pleasure. Because sex is something beautiful and personal. And it was all too soon to become torment for him, but he didn't know that. And even if he did there was nothing he could do to change it.

She stopped before him, pressing her hips against his and drawing a classic reaction from mindful parts of his male anatomy. He ran a hand down her side as she leaned up and drew him into a deep kiss, hands settling on his hips. Yes, he liked Amy a lot. She made him feel like a woman, which is not something any man in his right mind desires. But he did. She took the assertive role and he loved it.

He complied, stumbling slightly, as she worked him backwards and finally shoved him onto the fluffy bed. With an innocent lick of her lush mouth she crawled atop him and met his lips again as his hand reached to say hello to lips of a different kind.

She purred softly into him as he brushed his fingers over that soft crushed-leather. That small reaction set him off more than anything else, and he reached to undo her pants excitedly. She slapped his hand away with a stern look and sat up on him, hips again pressed against his. The woman took her sweet time unbuttoning his shirt, baring his chest and looking him over as she always did. She knew exactly how to make him feel, and he melted beneath her judging and hungry gaze.

"You're pathetic," she sneered, sweetness gone.

"I know," he whispered back, and he really did. He really did know. She smirked and climbed off him, hands sliding down his sides until the fingers curled to let her nails drag. He shivered at the deliciously painful feel, head tilting back. He swallowed as she undid his own slacks and slid them off in a sensual manner not typical of such actions. She bared him completely and climbed atop again, the soft leather brushing his thighs and causing more chills.

Another thing he liked about Amy.. Each time was different. Exotic and beautiful and fire, oh she had fire..

He thought this now as she leaned in, sharp little teeth brushing his exposed throat so gently. He lay completely helpless beneath her small but sturdy frame, so much weaker than him. Yet he was floored by her..

She took hold of him in her gentle but dictating hands, giving him pleasure alone before anything else. He loved that. He loved her. And she hated him.

She drove him almost to point of relief before releasing him, causing a painful and distressing yearning in his chest as he gasped quietly. And then it was better. Then she was there, all of her, encompassing him in sudden warmth and nudity and all-giving pleasure. His hands lifted to rest on her perfectly-curved sides as she worked him hard but gentle. She was silent throughout, eyes locked on his face as she did all the work and he simply took it, unable to do anything more.

He felt his heart would burst and she seemed to sense it, leaning down to press her lips to her chest, contorting her hips in only a way she could and still keeping the beat. She smiled up at him as she felt the tensing and release, a well-earned moan escaping trembling lips and his fingers dug ever so slightly into her smooth skin. She purred again and climbed off him, dressing herself quickly as he lay on the bed, panting.

"That wasn't bad," she commented as if he had done anything at all. "Still pathetic, but you'll do until I find someone better."

"I know," he replied, still not moving from his place of bliss. She smirked and left, going to pay her dues as her half hour was up. Dib sat up slowly, remembering Lynn would be coming directly after Amy checked out completely. He quickly dressed himself and turned the bedspread to the end of the bed, folding it there in the five minutes refractory time he was given between each customer. So, she had done it atop the sheets, atop the spread even! 0dd girl, always full of surprises..

He must have still had that silly grin on his face when Lynn stepped in. She chuckled and stepped over to him.

"Good night?"

"Not good enough yet," he replied, wrapping a hand around her waist and pulling her over for a warm embrace. She was a sweet girl, and just adored the charm. Why she came to his room, he would never understand, with its darker drab and his specialties. But he took her anyways, because her money was just as good as anyone's and to be frank he liked his customer base.

She giggled softly as he kissed her cheek and swung her around playfully.

"Silly," she said, smiling up at him with empty eyes. Her face portrayed the affection and love she longed to give someone, and get from someone. But it was not felt, not at all. Not for either.

Dib laid her down and did exactly as she wanted, so gentle and filled with affectionate kisses and touches in all the right places. She loved her hair touched, like most women, and Dib gave plenty of comments on her beauty and grace.

She left pleased, and he was glad that, for half an hour every month, she could pretend to be wanted and appreciated and most of all loved. He collected his clothing, and slipped the tips both women had given him into the top drawer. Just two hundred dollar bills, nothing extravagant. No, he got his most money from Mick.. and the cut the house gave him.

The knock came all too soon and Dib didn't reply. He never spoke to Mick, and Mick never spoke to him. There was a special understanding between them, and words simply were not needed.

The man stepped in, closing the door behind himself and taking off his hat and coat, laying them across the top of the dresser as he always did. He didn't trust the house with his belongings, not even the hundred dollar hat and five hundred priced coat. Dib didn't know where these people got their money, and he didn't care. He was always given the choice customers; the young rich ones whom seemed to be more emotionally damaged than someone straight out of a Burton film.

Dib knew his role well by now. He looked down, away from the man just three years older than he. Mick strode to the dresser and opened the sado-drawer. Dib didn't have to guess at the things he chose, for the man had used them all at one point or another.

Mick moved back to him, taking him by the hair and pulling him to the bed. He had to reach because he stood tall at a shy under Dib's chin. He took his time, for he always paid for an hour instead of the traditional half. Dib stumbled along as much as he could until he was shoved to the bed roughly. He knew what was expected of him and struggled, trying to get away from the other male. Mick growled and grabbed one of his wrists, swiftly handcuffing it to the bed post. Dib curled against the headboard, eyeing the man fearfully in their roleplay. Mick smiled almost sweetly at him, and Dib saw something in his eyes that really did scare him deep down. It wasn't the usual detached hollowness that most of the customers possessed. No, Mick genuinely enjoyed this. He felt and thought and most of all he enjoyed.

Dib struggled as his other wrist was tethered but at that point it was all over for him. He whimpered, falling easily into the role he so often forced Zim into himself. Mick slapped him across the face like a bitch and wrapped a hand around his throat. Dib's pulse beat feverishly beneath his fingers and he grinned. He liked that, and deep down, Dib did too.

The act continued on long into the hour, which never seemed to pass quite as quickly as it should. Mick did everything he wanted and Dib took it. He loved it, though he reminded himself sternly that it was all about money. No emotions, no fun. Nothing that could cause any kind of relations here. Just money.

Dib was completely exhausted when Mick left. He had given all he had and Mick had taken, not allowing him a single thing. He laid as he were, sprawled on the bed naked as he tried to catch his breath. Just one more for tonight; a new male whom apparently was seeking to explore different tastes and had heard good things about Dib. A walk-in.

He had fifteen minutes though, so he took his time dressing and changing the sheets into a clear pair from the small closet. He tossed the bedspread in with the dirty sheets for the house maids to clean. He checked his watch. Five minutes. What to do… He picked up one of his books from atop the dresser, moving his hundred-dollar bill bookmark so he could read until this man came. Newbies always made him nervous, because he never knew what to expect. But this man was only five years older than he, and at 25 he wasn't quite the youngster most of the girls and few males here at the house were. He held just a little more smarts than they, and a lot more experience.

He was deep in his book when the knock came, ten minutes late. Dib marked his book and rose, walking to the door and opening it to the 30-year-old male. He looked downright old, even at that age, and Dib felt himself almost wilt at the sight of the other male. But his money was as good as any, and money fueled his dick, not looks.

So Dib stepped aside, letting him in, and stepped close to the man to see what he would do. The male took him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Dib gasped, reaching up and grabbing onto the man's arm as he choked at the surprise treatment. This wasn't right. Customers were allowed to hurt and maim, but not to an extent of damage. And this fucking hurt.

Dib struggled, eyes narrowing as the man crushed his throat. He tried to kick him off, but the male threw him to the floor and was atop him before he could even draw a breath. Dib screamed, but a large hand clamped over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks. He struggled more as the man pressed him against the floor, glaring.

"Hush," he growled deeply and Dib paused just a moment to hear what he had to say.

"Good. Now listen, you don't belong here, boy. You've been fucking my woman, and if I ever catch you here again I will kill you, got that?"

'His woman? What in the damned hell was this man talking about, it's not my fault if his woman comes here!' Dib thought angrily. But he knew better than to challenge this male.

"Amy is my girl, you hear me? And if I catch you with here ever again I swear to the fucking Christ I will murder you." The man then released him and stood, brushing his hand on his pants as if Dib were the dirtiest thing he ever touched. Dib didn't move, just stared up at him with a hard glint.

The man scowled and left, slamming the door.

With a curse, Dib got to his feet and rubbed his throat. "Idiot," he mumbled to himself. "Fucking idiot, then keep your girl satisfied and maybe she won't feel a need to come to a place like this."

Amy, huh? Well, that explains it. He doubted anyone could control that girl; she had a mind of her own like a storm.

Dib collected his cash and stepped out, locking the door behind him. He passed a few of the full-time girls, ignoring them because they were just filthy crack-whores to him. He was better than they, he had self-respect and did what he did because he could, not because he needed a drug fix.

"That guy left fast," Miss commented as he collected his coat from the closet.

"Yeah, don't let him in here again," he replied, tugging his sleeves down and slipping the coat on. "He wasn't a customer, he was a death threat."

"I see. Well, threat or not his money's good."

Dib looked up at her, brow knitting.

"I don't think you understand, he tried to kill me!"

"Everyone's had one of them, dear. Don't let it worry you, he's probably just getting a fix off it." She opened the door and smiled. "Have a good night."

Dib walked to his car a little quicker than most nights. He did worry, and he had damned good reason too. Miss was just too used to the whore life, she obviously had forgotten how humans really are.

He began his usual monthly trip to Zim's house, but turned when he was to pass the street his own home rested on. Not tonight, he wasn't in a threatening sort of mood.

Meanwhile, Zim stood by the door, waiting for the knock, head down and eyes glazed for another night of torment and humiliation. When it still had not come four hours after the usual time, he went downstairs and finished off the last of his food supply.


	3. You Are So Good So Far

"What took you so damn long?" Dib snapped when the door finally opened. Zim, seeming panicked, frowned hard at the floor with wide eyes.

"I.. I wasn't expecting you today.."

"You should expect me every day!" Dib replied, pushing his way into the house and tossing a few bills on the table. Zim shut the door and walked over to them, but Dib put up a hand.

"Stop counting it," he said. "You do better when you don't know how much you're working for."

Zim swallowed and nodded, stepping over to the lift. He called it up, and they rode down in silence, having to stand uncomfortably close to each other to both fit in the small lift.

They reached the room and Zim began undoing Dib's jeans, telling his mood already from the way he spoke. He pulled them off and Dib undid his own shirt, then he took the alien by the arms and threw him onto the bed. Zim grunted softly in pain, weakened by the four days lack of food. He wondered why Dib had waited those four days; the breaking of schedule unnerved him, and he hoped it wouldn't be like this from now on.

Dib proceeded to tear Zim's clothing from him, rougher than usual. His hand grazed a tender spot on Zim's shoulder, where he had injured himself lifting something heavy in the lab, and the Irken winced, raising a hand to move Dib's. The man growled and took his hand, pressing it to the bed above his head and snarling curses at him even as the alien cringed beneath him.

He snapped something close to Zim's face that he didn't even hear. The alien antennae were pressed flat against his head in fear and submission. The Dib had never been like this before. Smug and arrogant and abusive, but never angry.

Dib proceeded to punish Zim for his wrongful actions, beating him off the bed and into the floor with a flurry of insults and curses as he crushed the alien. He then rose and dressed himself, not looking at the shivering, bloodied being curled partially under the bed.

The human left, and Zim wept as he never before had.

When he finally stopped, he struggled to his feet shakily and stumbled upstairs. It sounded like rain outside, so he may as well use it.

When the lift stopped and Zim swayed into the living room, his swollen eyes lighted on the money. Had Dib forgotten it? Must have, there's no way he paid just to beat Zim.

Zim waited two days for Dib to return for it, but the need for food and supplies became too great and Zim spent the money. It was never mentioned by either person.


	4. Show Me What You're Made 0f

"Welcome back, Dib," Miss purred, opening the door for the man. He nodded to her and stepped inside, shoulders hunched at the chill breeze in the air that night. Miss watched him remove his coat with a different glint in her eyes, looking him up and down.

"So, who's in tonight?" Dib asked, oblivious to her stare.

"Mick, Amy—"

"Amy? Shit.."

Miss tilted her head.

"What's wrong Dib?"

He looked at her, making a discontented expression.

"Her man roughed me up last month," he replied, realizing how pathetic that sounded. "I just don't want any trouble."

"Well that's her problem," Miss replied, starting to lead him to his room. "If she pays the money, we aren't going to turn her away."

"Alright.." Dib sighed skeptically.

"Don't worry," the woman stopped to unlock his door. "We'll keep him out if he comes again."

"Thanks." Dib stepped into his room and looked around as if anything had changed. Nothing had.

It wasn't long before Mick came. It was the usual hour of torment and pain and pleasure.

Dib noticed at one point that Mick was sporting something new; a little tat on inner curve of his left leg, close to the hip. An odd place for a tat, especially for a male. He couldn't quite make it out, but it looked like a little barcode. Those have been getting popular in recent years, Dib thought as the tat disappeared while Mick's member ventured into places unmentionable.

Later, hour up, Mick left without a second look at Dib. He was an animal to be rented and disowned, nothing more.

Dib dressed himself, wincing slightly as Mick had been a little more rough than usual. He changed the sheets quickly and waited for Amy, whom was expected directly after Mick.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes after her due time that a knock came to the door. Dib opened it and the girl stepped in quickly.

"Amy," he grinned but it quickly slid to a deep frown. "What's happened?"

She looked away from him, pulling her dirty-blonde hair over the black eye she sported nicely.

"Nothing. I'm late, so let's hurry this up." She started fumbling with her jeans. Dib watched her a moment, then stepped over and took her by the shoulder.

"Amy, what happened?" he asked sternly, breaking rules and crossing lines he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.

She glanced up at him and he saw tears glint her beautiful blue eyes.

"I told you.."

"No, you told me nothing. Literally. Now speak." He led her to the bed and they sat together.

"Just.. just my boyfriend. He knows I come here.. And he knows he can't stop me, not really."

"He hurt you?"

"He didn't really mean to, we were just talking and things got out of hand." Her words spilled out in a hollow, toneless way that suggested she'd said this before.

"Amy, you should get away from him," Dib said angrily. A small thought nagged at the back of his head, questioning his righteousness with this girl and his wrongdoings with Zim. He pushed it away. Zim is different, he told it. It tried to argue, but he ignored.

"It's not that easy," she replied, biting her split lip. Dib touched a finger under her chin, making her look at him.

"Listen to me. You deserve better, and he's a brute of a man anyways. He doesn't deserve a delicate fire like you."

Her eyes widened a bit and she rose, moving away from his touch.

"Has he been here?" she asked quickly and didn't give Dib time to answer. "0h Jesus Christ no.. You need to get out of here. He will murder you."

"The security here will take care of him," Dib replied calmly, remaining seated as he was.

"He'll wait for you. Follow you home.."

Dib smiled reassuringly. "Your concern is touching. Don't worry about me, I'm a big boy I can take care of myself."

She smirked now, and he saw a bit of the Amy he knew in the expression.

"If you're so cocky.. I don't care, not really. Just don't want to be dating a murderer."

Dib reached out a hand and she took it, stepping close until she stood between his legs.

"Don't worry about me doll, just you worry about yourself."

She smiled and went down on him. It was short and stressed; Dib could tell she was not just time-conscious, but it didn't matter, she had paid for a full half hour and that's all he cared about.

Nobody else was scheduled for him that night, but he still had plenty. Mick had left a better tip than usual.

Dib stared the long night drive to Zim's, mind heavy with thoughts of Amy. He found himself watching the cars driving behind him until they turned off. Perhaps his new habit for awhile.

He killed the lights and parked in front of Zim's, sitting in his car for a few moments to clear his mind. He put on his aggressive face and got out, pocketing the money.

The door opened before he even reached the steps and he trotted inside without a glance at the Irken.

"Not so much tonight, so make it quick and don't waste my time," he said, tossing the two hundreds down on the table. Zim called up the lift, head down and antennae quivering. He didn't dare look up, even when they reached the room. Dib undressed himself, as did Zim, and the Irken was forced against the bed.

Why did it always have to be so rough? Zim had heard of humans who did it like the act of love it was supposed to be; gentle and sweet. Even prostitutes could do it kindly, gently. Nobody had to do it rough all the time. But Dib did. Zim cringed as he was hammered, unable to help himself. It hurt so much, and he had recently decided that he would never get used to it.

He didn't cry that night. He simply got up, got dressed, and stood with head down as Dib took his time leaving. When he was sure Dib would be gone, he returned upstairs and began putting on his disguise.

It was when he was pocketing the money and adjusting his hood that a knock came at the door.

Baffled and fearful of whom it could be, he stepped over and opened the door very slowly, silently.

A man forced his way in and grabbed Zim by the shoulders. The Irken gasped in surprise and struggled, unmindful of his PAK legs or weapons. How he wished GIR were still functioning. But it was just that; wishful thinking. Nothing lasts forever.

The larger male wrapped a hand around Zim's mouth and began to choke him. The alien fought his best, but weakened as he was by all else he didn't stand a chance against the human. At the end he almost willingly gave in to the darkness that swept him from the Earth and into a distant and quiet place somewhere deep inside his own mind.


End file.
